


Want vs. Need

by Cantique



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Pre-War, chems, so many chems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If she was to compare her old life with Nate and her new life with Hancock... well, there's something to be said about dinner and dancing vs. chems and binge drinking.</p>
<p>--<br/>Sole Survivor's life with Nate compared to her life with Hancock. I suck at summaries.<br/>[CW: Sex, drugs, the eternal struggle of choosing between lipstick shades.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want vs. Need

It had been so long since she’d dressed up that she was worried she might have forgotten how, and Mackenzie was seriously beginning to doubt herself. Until recently, she’d been home alone with Shaun, and while Codsworth did lighten the load a little, she’d still had no time to worry about her hair and makeup beyond basics. Lipstick had been out of the question since Shaun was born, and now, four months later, she was sitting at her vanity desk and unable to pick a shade.

“Sitter should be here soon,” Nate’s voice called to her from the hall before he entered their bedroom. He paused, taking in the sight of her, all dressed up in her fancy red dress with her hair primped and perfect after two hours of silently cursing under her breath and battling with bobby pins and hairspray. “I was going to ask how long you’d be,” he chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, “but I don’t want to rush art.”

She smiled, rolling her eyes playfully as she turned to him, one lipstick in each hand. “Russian Red or Mocha?”

Nate crossed his arms, tossing his head from side to side as though he was legitimately thinking this over. “Neither,” he announced. “Then it won’t get everywhere when I’m kissing you.”

“Russian Red it is,” she laughed with a smirk, returning her gaze to her mirror and setting down the rejected Mocha shade. “It’s been so long since I’ve work lipstick, or this dress…”

“Too long,” Nate added, moving behind her and watching her reflection in the mirror as she popped her lips into an ‘o’ shape and began to apply. “Although, really, you don’t have to dress up to look beautiful.”

 As she finished the final touches of her lipstick, Mackenzie gave a sigh. “Made up or not,” she paused to press her lips together, “it’s going to be nice to go out again.”

 

\--

 

The sound of a singular gunshot wakes her up, the thin sheet sticking to Mac’s skin as she slowly comes to. She’s still groggy -- they did, after all, only get to bed at 4am last night. She smacks her lips together, cringing at the dryness of her mouth, and checks the time on her Pipboy. It’s already 1pm, and the sun that’s pelting the roof of the small shack they’re sharing in Hangman’s Alley is turning it into an oven.

“Hancock,” she grumbles, rolling onto her side and burying her head into the pillow. “Hancock, wake up, it’s one in the afternoon.”

Hancock merely responds with a long, drawn out groan, his eyes shut tight. “This fucking sun,” he growled. “I swear, it’ll kill me before anything with a gun does.” She wills herself to sit up, rubbing her eyes before staring vacantly at nothing in particular as she gains her bearings. The two of them are hopeless in the morning as it was, but on days that are especially hot they may as well quit before they even start. “Pass me some Mentats?” He asks as he reaches out for a bottle of water on his side of the mattress.

Mac obliges, reaching into her pack and rummaging through it until the box presents itself. “I want to make it to Goodneighbour before dark,” she says as she passes him the box, “get us a good room at the Rexford before they’re all gone.”

“By dark?” He repeats before downing a handful of Mentats with the water. “Easy. Oh, hey,” already seeming to brighten up a little, Hancock rolls onto his back, his back against the pillow. “It’s your birthday soon, right?”

Mac blinks, doing a double take at the ghoul, who already seems more than pleased with himself. “I can’t believe you remembered that,” she laughs. “I told you, what, once?”

“I got room for the important stuff,” he chuckles, tapping the top of his head as she drags herself off the mattress and begins to search for her clothes on the floor, entirely aware that Hancock is eyeing her every step of the way. ‘Admiring the view,’ he calls it. “I’m taking you out on the town.”

Mac laughs as she steps into her underwear. “I’ll make sure to wear my fancy dirt, then.”

 

\--

 

“Thanks for hiring a sitter,” Mackenzie said in the car, Nate driving, the rain gently pattering on the windshield. “I know Codsworth can do it, but I just…”

“You feel better leaving Shaun with a person rather than alone with a robot,” Nate finished, tossing her a friendly glance. “Whatever makes you happy, it’s _your_ birthday, after all.”

She laughed under her breath. “I know you think it’s silly, I’m just not used to them, that’s all.” She watched Nate carefully for his response. Getting a Mr Handy had been a source of arguments before he was deployed. He’d insisted on it for while he was gone, but Mackenzie had read enough sci-fi comics in college to know that placing blind trust in a robot with built in weaponry wasn’t the best idea.

Nate shrugged it off. “You should see the units they had on base, babe,” he said as he turned left. “I had my hang-ups too, but once you get used to them, they’re a godsend.” He shot her a smile. “I still want _you_ to make that cherry cake for my birthday, though.”

“As if I wouldn’t,” she joked. “It’ll be good to know the housework will be taken care of when I go back to work.” Mackenzie chewed on the inside of her lip. Going back to work wasn’t something she’d even _thought_ about until recently. “If I ever go back to work, anyway.”

“Oh, come on, Mackenzie, don’t talk like that,” he cooed as they came to a stop at the traffic lights. “You’ll go back whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush, I’m still earning enough for us both.” He gave an exhale, reaching out and squeezing her hand for a second. “I don’t want you to turn into a housewife just because you feel like you have to.”

She squeezed back before the light turned green and his hand returned to the gearstick. “I know,” she agreed, “it’s just nice to be together as a family. I’d like to enjoy it for a while now that you’re back.”

 

\--

 

Mac shoots a stimpack into her left arm, massaging the feeling back into it as Hancock checks the bodies of the Super Mutants that litter the ground. “Anything good?” She asks.

“Nah, nothing you aren’t already hoarding somewhere at the Castle, anyway.” Hancock shoots her a smirk, but it quickly fades when he sees her rubbing at her injured arm. “You alright?”

She nods, stepping over a corpse to close the distance between them. “Yeah, just uh, do me a favor?” When she arrives in front of him, he realises her arm isn’t sitting right and is hanging from her shoulder on an odd angle. “Pop me back in?”

Hancock’s face twists into a cringe as he reluctantly takes her wrist in one hand and the top of her shoulder in the other. “You taken any Med-X?” He asks her, probably hoping to delay the process, but to his disappointment she nods. She feels bad asking Hancock to do this. She’s always had problems with this shoulder and she knows Hancock has a weird thing about bones. He can handle anything else - decapitations, brain-matter, eyeballs -- but not broken or dislocated bones. “Okay, one, two…” he counts, more for his benefit than hers. “Three!” With a sudden movement he snaps her shoulder back into place, instantly catching her as she launches forward and cries out in pain.

Mac basically hangs on him, gasping for air as she recovers from the sudden yet great pain. After a few moments of seeing stars,  though, the Med-X really kicks in and she starts to feel the buzz, and she gives a sigh as she rests her head on his shoulder. “Thanks,” she sighs.

“All in a day’s work,” he laughs.

 

\--

 

Mackenzie had never been to this club before, but she’d always wanted to, ever since they moved to the area. “This place is lovely,” she remarked, sipping from her cocktail as she looked around. The bar was lavish, the food being served to the other tables looked exquisite and the band… well, it was the first time she’d been able to see a live orchestra band since she’d gotten pregnant. “You know, it reminds me of that place you used to take me when we were dating.” She stopped herself as a Mr Handy whizzed by, decorated in a bow-tie and carrying a tray of champagne for another table. “...Except with more than one robot.” When she was in college, Mr Handy’s weren’t as affordable, and seeing one behind a bar was a novelty.

“Remember that GI bar I used to take you to?” He asked. “Back when I was still trying to impress you? And how my army buddies would try and cut in and steal you away?”

"Yes!” She laughed. “Like when… what was his name?” She pursed her lips, trying to stretch her memory, before snapping her fingers, “O’Leary! Jimmy O’Leary! Remember when he tried to cut in on you when we were dancing, and you actually _gave him a noogie_ for trying?” She chuckled on the memory. “Didn’t he get married recently?”

Nate gave a nod. “Yeah, he met a girl up in Alaska, brought her back with him. Nurse, I think she works for Vault-Tec now. Real sweet girl.”

“So they’re still in Boston?” She asked. “We should have them over for dinner! We can finally use those fancy glasses your sister bought us for our wedding.”

He gave a nod. “As much as I’d love to discuss other people,” he began, standing and offering her his arm, “all I can think about is you and how it has been a _long_ time since I’ve gotten to dance with you.”

 

\--

 

“Alright, birthday girl,” Hancock announces on returning to their table in the Third Rail, grinning ear to ear as he places an assortment of alcohol and chems on the table. “Ready for some rocket fuel?”

“Rocket fuel?” she asks.

“It’s a drink I invented,” he replies proudly, opening an empty bottle and pouring in some Nuka Cherry. “The goal was to make something that gave us Ghouls a buzz quicker than usual, but it’s a good party trick for humans, too,” he explains to her, dropping an actual handful of mentats into it. “Or, well, in moderation. I save it for special occasions, like a beautiful woman’s birthday.” He pours in some vodka haphazardly before taking about four or five buffout capsules and placing them on the table. “Pull a few Jet after this and you’ll be on a whole other level.”

She watches curiously as he grinds up the Buffout using the handle of his knife, carefully gathering the crushed leftovers and dust in his hands before almost expertly adding them to the mix. If anyone else offered her this cocktail of… ‘stuff,’ she’d refuse. But Mac trusts Hancock without question, especially when it comes to chems. Hell, he even taught her how to make her own Jet refills once. Not a pretty process, but it’d get her through a rough spot if she ever needed it. He tops the concoction off with Nuka Cola Quantum before screwing the lid back on and giving the bottle a rough shake. “So when I can expect to sleep again?” She asks. 

Hancock gives a shrug. “It’s not like a Psycho binge or anything. You’ll get a crazy high for about five or six hours before you crash.” He places the bottle back on the table and unscrews the lid, the carbonated mess of ingredients fizzing over the top and down the sides immediately. “And heads up: you’ll crash _hard._ ” 

“So I’ll catch up on about a week’s worth of sleep, then?” She jokes as she takes the bottle in her hand. “Cheers,” she offers before doing her best to drink it all at once. It actually doesn’t taste too bad. The Nuka Cherry masks most of the bitterness left by the chems, and the Quantum gives the large amount of Vodka a bit of bite. She gets half way through before she stops to breathe. “Holy shit,” she gasps. “That sure is… a flavor…” with that, she champions through the rest of it, noticing that Hancock is already offering her some jet as well. Without skipping a beat, she slams the bottle down on the table, taking the Jet from Hancock’s open palm and sucking it down as though she has something to prove. If she’s not mistaken, he looks a little bit proud of her.

Hancock takes his turn to get high now, but it’s already kicking in and she forgets what he’s taking almost as soon as she sees it. He’s excited, though -- he loves it when she gets high with him. Not the regular, day to day gentle buzz that acts as an undercurrent and gets them through the day, though. The obliterative, bad choice encouraging, three day come down kind of high. She sinks back into her chair, a warm, content smile on her face as the music washes over her. Magnolia is out tonight, so they’ve hooked up a jukebox instead and the music is all from the old world. “What are you smiling about?” Hancock finally asks her. “Cap for your thoughts?”

Mac shrugs her shoulders. “Just this song. Reminds me of when I was in college.”

 

\--

 

Mackenzie, having had a few drinks, couldn’t stop stealing kisses from Nate by the end of the evening, to a point where he took the hint and paid the bill. It still amazed her how quickly he’d act if he thought he might get lucky. Nate was a cautious driver, of course, but he was breaking a few speed limits to get her back home and into the bedroom as soon as possible. In a drunken spurt of confidence, Mackenzie decided that she couldn’t blame him, either. She did, after all, look positively stunning tonight. 

But half way home, Mackenzie had an idea. “Take the exit here!” She blurted, pointing ahead on the road.

“What?”  
  
“Just do it! I have an idea!" 

Nate raised his eyebrow, but obliged, turning off the main road and following her directions. “Honey, I’m not following. The only thing down here is the rookie baseball field.”

She smiled, a sly smile, one that let him know she was up to something. “I know,” she giggled, leaning in so she could whisper. “Remember when we were in College?” She asked. “How we used to come here after we went to the GI bar?”

She didn’t need to explain it further. Nate sped the car up and barrelled down the small dirt road, causing her to squeal in delight. Eventually he came to a stop, parking by the side of the field, the motor running and the radio on. He reached out to kiss her, but she barrelled over his arm and between the two front seats, basically throwing herself into the back. Nate joined her as soon as he could get his seatbelt off, and it was just like they were in college again. Making love in the backseat of his car and hoping no-one could see them. It was what she’d wanted since he’d been taken from her by war.

 

\-- 

 

At some stage during their evening, a well-wisher offers them both some Psycho as a birthday gift, and they’re way too high to refuse an extra boost of chems. Once they shoot up on that, it’s a matter of minutes before she’s squirming in her seat, waiting for him to finish talking to Daisy at the bar so she can touch him. Her nerves are on overdrive and she can feel her blood pumping through every part of her and all she wants to do is _touch_ him.

Eventually he does return to her, and thirty minutes later they’re trying to leave. Trying being the key word. They’re both so high right now that neither of them can really see or hear the world outside the bubble they’ve created. They get halfway up the stairs to the exit before he pins her to the wall and and they practically attack each other, not giving a fuck that the whole bar is basically watching. Daisy ends up volunteering to get them back to the Rexford before they can fuck each other in the stairwell. Bless her. 

Once they’re safe and sound in their room it all turns up to 100, desperately trying to get each others clothes off, Hancock ripping her shirt in the process, not that she cares one bit. “Fuck I love you,” he pulls himself away from her lips long enough to growl before moving to her neck as she all but shoves him to the bed. She straddles him, both of them so hungry for each other that their faces are soft and longing like the other could vanish any second. “I love you so fucking much.”

His fingers dig into the fleshy cheeks of her behind as he takes her, “I love you too,” she gasps even though she’s already all but breathless from the sheer sensory overload. As it is he’s like a chem to her, but right now everything about him is sublime. The _moment_ is sublime, the honesty, the hunger, the love, the way they claw at each other like neither of them can live without the other -- probably because they can't. Everything in this world is so easily lost and fragile but what they have in this moment isn’t going anywhere.

Mac has no idea what she wants anymore, but she knows for a fact as they all but destroy the hotel room together that Hancock’s love is exactly what she needs.

 


End file.
